Quando tu Gauis, ego Gaia
by Hannah Lynn McDonald
Summary: 249 B.C. - Adam marries his wife.


_249 B.C._

* * *

His hands fidgeted with an edge of his toga, pulling at and smoothing the threads. Staring out the window, he was almost vibrating with energy.

"Calm yourself, Ætius - you will make yourself pass out and then where would you be?" The man didn't calm down, and if anything his nervousness only increased so Anicetus stood and walked over to him with a sigh, grasping the back of his neck and pulling him away from the window to sit upon one of the couches. "Would it make a difference if I said that you were nervous enough to trip at the _sight_ of a doorstep, let alone actually _crossing_ one?"

He breathed in sharply, holding it for a moment as he forced himself still, closing his eyes.

He collapsed to sit beside him with another sigh. "It's just a wedding! It's not like you to be this superstitious - that is Iovannis' job."

"One can never be too careful! It is the wedding - it comes but once in a life!"

"And if you or she die before the other? You'll just...never remarry?"

He looked at his friend in confusion. "No - why would we do that?"

He rolled his eyes. "What if she died tomorrow?"

His eyes widened, and he quickly leaned forward to clasp a hand over the other's mouth.

Cetus blinked and then grinned, pulling away from the hand. "You need to relax! You're going to snap in half."

He frowned, his hands clenching in his lap. "What if her parents call it off? Or the fowl are loose? Or her veil is torn - or lost? Perhaps she is ill!" He stood up from the couch abruptly, pacing the room.

His friend watched him for a few minutes. "Did you sleep last night?"

He glanced up, tugging his toga up as it tangled on a table. "What? No - of course not. I feared nightmares."

"You _didn't_ sleep?"

"No. I can sleep when the ceremony is finished."

"When the... When _was_ the last time you slept?"

He waved a hand at him in a dismissive gesture. "A few days ago - it matters little. I did not dream."

He squeezed his eyes shut. "How are you still awake?"

He paused, looking at his friend in confusion. "Why would I not be?"

"Nevermind - and stop pacing! You're making me nervous and I'm not getting wed."

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself again. "What if they revoked their permission? What if they never intended to allow the ceremony to conclude?"

"...if you keep worrying you will be insisting that they plan to murder you - and _no_ they are not."

"Of course not. But-"

"Ætius!" He abruptly stood from the couch, stepping forward to grasp the shorter man's shoulders. "No! You will be fine. She will be fine. The day will be fine. So _relax_." He felt the small tremors still running through the groom, and released him, returning to the couch. "It is quite fortunate that you will not carry Ariadne across the threshold - you'd likely drop her."

"Not carry - of course I will carry her!"

"Really."

"Yes!"

"Ætius - you can barely carry her when you're not about to pass out from nervousness. You will not carry her across."

"I cannot let her step across! What may follow with her?"

He sighed again. "Superstition?"

"Prepare for the worst and you will not recieve it."

"And if there was something even worse than what you prepared for? Like falling face-first into your house with your bride in your arms? Hardly the start to marital bliss..."

"I will carry her."

He leaned back slightly, lifting his hands in surrender. "Very well! No matter - it is you that will be married and not I."

He nodded in agreement, and then smiled slightly. "I would not carry you across: I would drop you squarely upon the doorstep and then demand a divorce."

"...very funny, I'm sure. Besides, how do you know that you would be the groom?"

"Because you would be a danger to society were you it."

* * *

"Ariadne! For the last time! Your hair is fine and leave your face alone and - no, that's not your's dear, that's your Aunt Ariadne's veil. Please bring it back now... - here's your veil. Now sit down and stop fidgeting. Have you slept? You look exhausted."

"...Benedicta, do nightmares still stand when they are played while quite awake?"

"...sit down and be quiet. And _don't_ touch anything else and don't move. Lupus! You will come back here right this second!"

* * *

 _AN: The title is from the marriage vow of Ancient Rome. I had fun with this one. He is twenty-one and she is eighteen. Benedicta is married already and has two children - thus Lupus. Cetus is definitely not yet. I couldn't find what the groom wore or if they waited somewhere the night before, and I really don't know anything about marriage in general but what I read, so I mixed together superstition and tradition with characters and voila. And nothing happens on the wedding night. *grins* They were both too exhausted from trying_ not _to sleep for the last two weeks or so that they went straight to sleep and didn't dream at all anyway. Sorry - I just couldn't find a way to work that in and not be weird..._ _11-21-2015_


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